


Payback

by MrSpectacular



Category: Knockaround Guys (2001)
Genre: Gen, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-28
Updated: 2019-05-28
Packaged: 2020-03-20 16:18:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18996172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrSpectacular/pseuds/MrSpectacular
Summary: It's been nineteen years since the incident in Montana (Marbles, Scarpa, and Teddy's death), and Matty has a new problem.





	Payback

November 15th, 2018 

It was cold and dark that Tuesday morning at 3am in Brooklyn, New York. The city was still alive, even at that hour. The lights, shining through the buildings and in front of the stores along the streets, lit up the town. Cars were honking (common in Brooklyn). People were still walking and riding bikes. 

The city never seemed to sleep. 

There were times that that had been beneficial, but this particular morning, it was unfavorable. Dark, quiet and secluded would have made things easier for the man who sat in his black Mercedes Benz, parked parallel to the curb. The windows were tinted, and the man wore black from the neck down; the few who did pass by didn't even seem to realize he was there. Most of them didn't even look his way, and those who did, glanced at him only very briefly. That was common in Brooklyn; there were so many people, one more didn't mean much. It was rare that anyone ever stood out. 

Back in the day, it was different for the man in the car. He could hardly walk into a Cafe without eyes all over him; some which had scanned him judgmentally and others that had widened in shock. Whatever their reaction, whispering was always a contribution. But that was a long time ago; that was before he'd changed his last name, before he'd been forgotten. And he changed it because he knew that being who he was, being related to a Demaret, would keep him from ever being given a job. 

And he wasn't just any Demaret. He was the son of mafia underboss, Benny "Chains" Demaret.

He was Matty Demaret. 

Now in 2018, 19 years after the incident in Montana took place, he looked much the same as he did back in 1999. His black hair was still partly slicked back and partly spiked. He still had the same heavy lidded gray-blue eyes and pink pouting lips. He was still pale and lean. The only difference was that he had more wrinkles around his eyes, and he now went by Matty Lamberti.

Lamberti; it had been Matty's mother's maiden name. She had been a wonderful, beautiful woman. She'd had silky black hair that went down to the middle of her back. She'd had long lashes over big eyes as dark as the night sky and full, red lips that matched the color of her nails. 

Matty never forgot the way she used to smile at him. He'd never forgotten the feeling of her hand brushing through his hair; the smell of her perfume as she leaned in and kissed him on the cheek. 

He remembered the way she'd cared for him; how she'd packed him his lunch every morning before she drove him to school. He remembered the way she used to comfort him, particularly after his dad unknowingly upset him by insulting him or belittling him in one way or another. 'Sticks and stones, Matty' she would say. 

He couldn't forget the way that beautiful hair fell out and the way that smile disappeared to leave only a permanent frown. The way her round cheeks went from rosy red, to hollow and pale. He'd never forget the ceaseless vomiting that woke him during the night; how she spent her last year either in a wheelchair with blood bags or in a hospital bed.

More than anything, he wouldn't forget the way she shook and drew in breath after uneasy breath before all life left her eyes. 

She had been a loving mother and a kind, caring person; and Matty felt if he couldn't keep his father's name, that he would take hers. It felt good; it felt right.

And after having changed his last name from Demaret to Lamberti, removing "Gianda's Catering Hole" from his resume, and waiting it out, after a couple years he was able to get a job as a Sport's Agent. The job he always wanted. 

He was now no different than the rest of them - at least outwardly. Inwardly, he'd seen and knew things that no ordinary man would have seen or known. He was all-too familiar with death and murder and though he hid it well, his memories were laced with a pain most wouldn't ever be forced to experience. 

In that moment, there was a hollowness in Matty's eyes as he stared over at a beaten down apartment building some ways up the street. It was hardly visible from where he was parked (it was difficult to find an empty space) but he was close enough to see when a man exited the building. He was huge; over six feet tall, with wide shoulders and muscle you'd expect to find on a body builder. His hair was brown, as were his eyes, and he had a goatee. 

Matty blinked rapidly, his nostrils flaring and his breath hitching in his throat. He clenched his jaw and swallowed, eyes glued to the man as he went across the street and got into a gray Maserati. 

Once the man started the car and drove off, Matty loosened and leaned back in his seat, letting out a deep breath. He was still for a moment; quiet and thoughtful. Slowly the dead, angry look in his eyes transformed. His frown became more prominent and his brows creased sadly. He bowed his head and shut his eyes, his memories engulfing him.


End file.
